


Not Really My Cup of Tea

by Asselin



Category: Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asselin/pseuds/Asselin
Summary: Brought to you, courtesy of the Beige Library (or not.)
Kudos: 11





	Not Really My Cup of Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettymanly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymanly/gifts).



> Thanks so much for showing me how to make footnotes! As you will see, I tried to put some in, but they didn't seem to work for me, so sorry about that. But I left them in anyway, 'cause it just made more sense to me that way.  
>    
> Disclaimer: Warhammer 40k and the Ciaphas Cain novels do not belong to me or mine. I am not making money off of this story, nor do I intend to.
> 
> 2019 EDIT: A few years ago, I planned to remove all my posted stories from this account and only use it to leave kudos occasionally. However, removing what were gifts to other people without even a warning was a mistake, so as of now I'm reposting all of my Yuletide works.  
> And thank you, CousinShelley, for sending me the email that started this!

_Editorial Note:_

_In the course of assembling further volumes of the Cain archive, I've encountered quite a lot of surprises, though I doubt if there were as many for me as for my fellow inquisitors. Yes, I've found certain small details of Cain's personality I'd never been privy to, escapades he'd taken part in which didn't warrant being brought to my attention, and other less--and more--savory things. But what surprised me most was that the archive, as I've labeled it for the public, wasn't entirely complete. Rather, I should say that the archive itself was complete, but there was more that never made it onto that single cluttered dataslate. It was recorded, certainly, but instead of being ensconced with the rest, I discovered it crammed in with various schola-related notes, all so hastily written that it could have made an ork look like a master penman._

_The account that follows is the larger part of what I discovered--the other part being so bizarrely pedestrian that only utterly bored housewives could possibly be interested. (The only reason I can think for it being there was that Cain thought it more interesting than his schola duties, however dull the memory was.) It briefly documents the events that occurred immediately after Jurgen was assigned to be Cain's adjutant, along with Cain's thoughts on the matter--of great interest to those who appreciate completeness. Those interested in the militaristic side of Cain's career should look to the aforementioned archives, however, as they will find nothing of interest here._

_To those readers who fit into neither of these classifications, all I can say is: make of this what you will._

_\--Amberley Vail, Ordo Xenos_

\--------------------------------------------------------

My first thoughts after discovering that I had been saddled with a distinctly odoriferous adjutant were... well, let's say that they were inhospitable. In reality, if I'd thought that shooting Jurgen would have gotten me anywhere, I might have done it just to be difficult. I knew why Mostrue had assigned a man to me, and even why he had assigned Jurgen of all people, but that didn't mean that I had to be frakking _happy_ about it. There wasn't much I could do about it, though, unless the idea of spending the rest of my life behind bars appealed to me. [1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5432690#foot1)

Of course, had this been a holodrama, this would normally have been the point in the narrative where the protagonist pastes a smile on his face and decides to make the best of a bad situation. Unfortunately, the smile was about all I could manage, which probably made a very bad impression when coupled with the semi-controlled stalk away from the scene, especially since Jurgen immediately followed me like an overeager dog. The urge to shoot something -- a petulant and rather uncharacteristic reaction that would have been heartily applauded, had it only been directed at the enemy -- returned.  
Suffice it to say, I was in no mood to be making the best of anything.

A few days later, I decided that instead of simply shooting Jurgen, I might just shoot him and then shoot anyone who suggested getting another adjutant.[2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5432690#foot2t) Not that he was a bad adjutant -- I really couldn't have said, never having had one before -- but his constant presence made me feel as though I'd been gifted my own personal stalker. Not to mention that even taking a breath was difficult when he was around, due to the acrid cloud that surrounded him--and by extension, me. Of course, that meant it was always difficult to breathe, since he was always around.

When I suggested that he do something useful,[3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5432690#foot3t) he disappeared for several blissful minutes, only to return with a bowl, which he then offered to me. Unsure of what would happen if I accepted and even less sure what would happen if I refused, I took it from him. There was some mysterious concoction inside it, which I assumed I was supposed to drink. I did so, not realizing at the time that it was to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, in two different senses.

The flavor utterly defied description, and while my sense of taste recoiled from it, some small sadistic part of my brain begged for more. Shrugging internally, I obliged it, and found the second mouthful to be somewhat easier to swallow, which astonished me as much as it seemed to please Jurgen.

"What is this?" I muttered into the bowl, loud enough that he could hear. Unless the germs had damaged his eardrums.

"Tanna, sir." Since I was apparently supposed to know what that meant, and no further explanation was forthcoming, I grunted in reply before gulping down half of the bowl's contents.

"It's... good," I told him grudgingly. "...I think."

"I'm glad to hear that, sir."

Suppressing a roll of my eyes, I returned to the 'tanna', slowing my pace this time to a dignified slurp. Of course Jurgen was glad to hear that I was glad-- _anything I did_ made him glad, in a proper, adjutantly vapid manner. Still, the tanna wasn't bad. In fact, it was becoming almost... pleasant, the more I drank.

That made me pause. The tanna... I liked it. And Jurgen could make it. Anytime I wanted.

My fingers tightened on the bowl as a thought bounded across my mind, cackling fiendishly as it went: _I'm going to have to keep him, aren't I_.[4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5432690#foot4t)

\----------------------------------------------------

[1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5432690#foot1t)Presumably, it didn't.

[2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5432690#foot2t)Interestingly enough, it seems to have slipped Cain's mind that the Valhallans would be more interested in putting him on trial in that case, rather than suggesting a new adjutant.

[3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5432690#foot3t)By which Cain presumably meant something as far away from him as possible.

[4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5432690#foot4t)As Cain's adjutant, Jurgen would have been expected to do those sorts of things for him, and while Cain could have gotten someone else to do it, it would have taken considerably more effort than he was probably willing to dedicate. Enlisted men are not, after all, known for being easy to track down in the middle of a large unit, and officers are not known for their willingness to make tanna on command.


End file.
